{~~THREE DAYS AGO~~}
The capital city of the Vermilion Empire was a place of gilded rot, where the scent of expensive incense often masked the stench of decay. Deep within the city’s most luxurious district sat 'The Crimson Veil,' a brothel known only to the highest echelons of society. Inside one of its private chambers, the air was thick with the aroma of vintage wine and the soft, artificial laughter of courtesans.
Two young men lounged on silk cushions, surrounded by women who moved with the practiced grace of predators. One of them, draped in golden robes embroidered with a defiant vermilion bird, drained his cup with a ferocity that spoke of deep-seated resentment. This was Julius Von Vermilion, the Third Prince.
"I love this place," Julius slurred, his eyes glazed with intoxicati
